InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Short Straw ❯ Chapter 11 ( Chapter 11 )

Thanks again for all the help, Tsuki-chan and Hyperchica!

The Short Straw

By Flamingwillows

Chapter eleven

Kagome woke to the sound of someone moving around nearby. Startled and still half asleep, she jerked upright in bed, thinking that she'd overslept and Aunt Kikyo had come in to get her up. But instead of her aunt's stern face, she found herself staring at the muscular width of a man's naked back. What had started out a scream emerged as a squeak when the intruder turned and she found herself staring into Koga's face.

Koga. Her husband. Memory rushed back-the wedding, the drive out to the ranch house, her terrified anticipation of him joining her in the bedroom. And then how it hadn't been terrifying at all, at least not in the way she'd expected.

"Good morning." His voice was even deeper than usual, husky with sleep.

"Good morning."

"How are you this morning?" He eyes searched her face and Kagome felt her cheeks warm with the intimacy of that look.

"I'm fine." Her voice seemed to be caught in the back of her throat, emerging as little more than a whisper.

"You look fine." There was pure, masculine appreciation in his look as his eyes drifted downward. "You look more than fine."

With a horrified gasp, Kagome snatched the blankets up to her chin, covering her bare breasts. Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire and Koga's husky laugh did nothing to cool the heat. It was probably foolish to feel embarrassed considering the liberties she'd allowed him to take with her person the night before. But what was acceptable at night seemed like brazen sin in daylight.

Koga took pity on her flushed cheeks and bent to scoop her wrapper up off the floor. She mumbled her thanks as she took it from him. But didn't immediately move to put it on. Seeing her uneasy glance him his direction, he sighed and turned away from her to pick up his shirt. Obviously it was going to take a while for her to lose her shyness. But he could be patient. Patience had it rewards, he thought, remembering her response the night before.

As he finished buttoning his shirt and began shoving the bottom of it into his pants, Kagome walked past him to the dresser and picked up her hairbrush. Koga's movements slowed as he watched her drag the brush though the wild tangle of dark waves in a slow rhythm. Arousal thrummed low in his gut, but he restrained the urge to reach for her. He had a ranch to run and he couldn't do it from his bed, no matter how tempting it was to try. Besides, from the way she was avoiding looking at him, he suspected it would take considerable effort to persuade her to come back to bed.

Kagome could feel Koga's eyes on her as she brushed her hair, but couldn't bring herself to look at him. The memory of her abandoned behavior the night before was enough to make her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Not that he'd seemed to object at the time. Her eyes met him in the mirror and immediately darted away.

"I'll have breakfast ready shortly," she said, grasping at the prosaic as a way to distract her thoughts from what had happened the night before.

"Don't worry about it this morning. I'll grab some bread and meat on my way out. That'll hold me till supper."

"I'll have supper ready at noon for you and the hands, then. She picked up one of the ribbons she'd worn in her hair the day before and used it to tie the heavy mass at her nape.

It was exactly what he'd expected her to say, but Koga hesitated, feeling a twinge of something that could have been guilt. She looked so young this morning. Young and . . . almost fragile. It occurred to him that in offering her this marriage that gave him everything he wanted, he might not have given as much thought as he should have to what she might have wanted.

He doubted many women dreamed of getting up the day after their wedding and cooking for half a dozen cowboys. Not to mention cleaning up three years of neglect. He wondered if he should have offered to take her on a wedding trip, maybe to Denver for a few days. And he could have hired someone to come in and clean up the house.

Koga shook his head. It was too late now, at least for the cleaning. And they could take a trip later in the year, when things slowed down a bit on the ranch. Besides, theirs was a marriage based on practicalities. Kagome was hardly likely to expect romantic gestures from him.

Just ring the bell outside the kitchen door when supper's ready." He said.

"All right." She turned to look at him, those big brown eyes solemn and just a little watchful, as if she wasn't quite certain what to expect from him. Well, that made two of them, Koga thought. He'd thought he knew exactly what he was getting when he decided he needed a wife. But now that he had one, he wasn't so sure.

"Do whatever you want with the house," He gestured vaguely. "Make whatever room you need for your things in here. And move whatever you like." He frowned at her, thinking that she really wasn't very big. "Don't try to move anything heavy. If I'm not around, one of the men can help."

"All right."

Koga hesitated, thinking there should be something else to say. But nothing came to mind and he shifted uneasily under the questioning look in her eyes.

"Well, I'll see you later, then." He turned and left without waiting for a reply, but he couldn't quite shake the feeling that here was something he'd forgotten. He was frowning when he went downstairs. This business of being married was going to take some getting used to.

Kagome watched Koga leave and told herself it was foolish to feel hurt just because he hadn't kissed her. He'd married her for practical reasons, not romantic ones, and she had no reason to expect kisses for no reason. It was just that . . . after last night . . . she shook her head, telling herself not to be a goose. She had too much to do to spend her time moping.

Kagome's impressions of her new home the night before had been vague. Her mind had been on other things and she'd come away with only the rough idea that the whole house needed a good cleaning. In the daylight it was obvious that `a good cleaning' was putting it mildly. If there was a surface that wasn't coated with dust and grime, she didn't find it before the time came to start supper.

She wondered again why Koga hadn't simply found himself a housekeeper rather than a wife, but then the memory of the night before brought a flush to her cheeks. He'd said he wanted children, after all, and a housekeeper certainly couldn't provide those.

The thought of a child made Kagome smile. She pressed one hand to her flat stomach. She could be pregnant already. Her smile widened. She'd always wanted children, just as she'd always wanted a real home. That was why she'd been willing to gamble on marrying Koga. Maybe there was more of her father in her than she'd thought. Certainly he'd never risked more on a turn of the cards than she'd risked by agreeing to this marriage. But unlike a game of poker, where once the cards were dealt, chance decided the outcome; she could make her own luck. Or so she hoped.

She looked around the kitchen, seeing beyond the grime to the future, a future she and Koga could build together, here in this house, on this land. For the first time in her life she felt settled in one place. She wasn't an unwelcome guest in her uncle's home anymore. She had a home of her own. She had her dream.

Her smile faded slightly as she considered that a husband who loved her had always been part of her dream as well. But love could grow, and good marriages had been built on less than what she had with Koga. He desired her. Innocent as she was, she had no doubt of that. And if she provided him with a comfortable home and, God-willing, children, who was to say love couldn't come of such things?

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Her hopeful mood lasted until the noon meal. She'd spent the morning cleaning the kitchen, scraping three years of accumulated grime from every surface, then scrubbing everything with strong lye soap and a heavy scrub brush. It was going to take more than one morning's work to get the room really clean, but at least she'd made a dent in the job.

At least the larder was well stocked. Her husband and brother-in-law might have let the housekeeping slide but apparently they hadn't forgotten to eat. The state of the kitchen was testament to the fact that someone had been cooking in it, she thought, grimacing at the abundance of evidence left behind.

At midmorning she paused in her cleaning long enough to get a pot of stew started. That done, she got down on her hands and knees and began the task of scrubbing the floor. By noon, the kitchen was almost up to acceptable standards, the stew was done and a huge pan of biscuits was ready to go in the oven. She'd taken a guess at the amount of food needed to feed half a dozen hungry cowboys and then she'd doubled her estimate.

She slid the biscuits into the oven, then went outside to ring the bell to call the men to eat. By the time they'd washed up, the biscuits would be out of the oven, piping hot and flaky. She hoped they wouldn't take too long washing. Biscuits were at their best right out of the oven.

Kagome was pouring coffee into thick cups when the squeal of the back door's hinges announced the arrival of the ranch hands. The room was instantly filled with large masculine bodies. They crowded into the kitchen, smelling of sweat and manure.

She saw immediately that she needn't have worried about the biscuits cooling while the men washed up. The idea of using soap and water before eating was apparently hers alone. They appeared in her newly cleaned kitchen wearing whatever dirt had attached itself to their persons during the morning. Koga and Miroku entered last. Kagome was relieved to see that they'd at least washed the dirt from their hands, but they hadn't bothered to wipe their feet. In a matter of seconds the floor looked just as it had before she's scrubbed it. "Sure smells good, ma'am." The words came from a tall young man who looked barely old enough to shave. He gave her a gap-toothed smile.

"This is Jinenji." Koga said as he sat at the head of the big oak table. "Joe. Myoga. Jakken."

Kagome had already lost track of which face belonged to which name. She smiled and nodded as each man dipped his head in her direction and sat down at the table. She turned to pull the biscuits from the oven and sliding them into a big earthenware bowl, pleased to see that they were lightly browned and looked exactly right.

She turned back to the table and stopped dead, her eyes widening. She'd set the heavy pot of stew in the center of the table and put a big ladle beside it. The ladle was bypassed in favor of a more direct method. She watched as Myoga- or was it Jinenji?- served himself by dipping his bowl into the stew pot. Gravy dribbled across the table as he set the bowl in front of him and proceeded to lick his fingers clean where they'd apparently been dunked in the stew.

She waited in vain for someone to say something about this amazing display of bad manners. But since the other men were quickly following suit, in obvious appreciation of this expedient method of serving, it was hard to know just who should utter the necessary reproach. Trying to conceal her distaste, Kagome edged up to the table and set the bowl of biscuits next to the stew.

"Biscuits!" One of the men- Joe? - greeted the addition with a pleased exclamation. The fact that his mouth was full did nothing to dim his enthusiasm.

The level in the bowl dropped instantly as hands flew across the table, snatching at the golden brown biscuits.

"Hot damn." The man who spoke began tossing the steaming biscuit back and forth between his hands, trying to cool it. "They's hotter than a witch's--"

"Jinenji!" Koga's snapped reprimand held a stern warning. He jerked his head in Kagome's direction.

Reminded that there was a lady present, Jinenji flushed a deep shade of red. "Beggin' you pardon, Mrs. Sukanami."

Kagome managed a weak smile to indicate her forgiveness for his language. If she'd thought that being reminded of her presence might have a beneficial effect on the men's table manners, however, she was disappointed. While she watched, one of them picked up his bowl to slurp the gravy that remained in its bottom and then promptly dipped it into the stew for a second helping.

From the way the men were eating, she wondered if it wouldn't have served just a well to throw a raw haunch of meat into the center of the table and let them devour it like a pack of wolves. Certainly, wild animals couldn't have shown fewer table manners.

It didn't seem to have occurred to anyone to say grace, but then she couldn't really see the point of asking the lord to bless the scene she was witnessing. Hands flew across the table, silverware clanked against bowls- thank heavens it was good, solid china, for the sheer force with which they stabbed at chunks of meat would have shattered anything less sturdy.

They slurped their coffee and talked with their mouths full, at least when they weren't shoveling food into those same mouths. And shovel was the operative word. They ate with a speed that would have been flattering if she hadn't suspected that they would have done the same with boiled shoe leather.

Her husband and brother-in-law were marginally better. At least they didn't stuff their food into their mouths with their fingers, she thought. But then Miroku wiped his mouth on his sleeve and her smidgen of relief disappeared. She could only watch in awe as the mound of biscuits and the huge pot of stew were devoured in no time at all.

She'd never seen anything like it, and if there was a good side to the spectacle, it was that they were gone almost as soon as they arrived, nodding at her as they left the table, one or two of them mumbling a thank you as they tromped out the door. Koga linger behind the others.

"That was a fine meal, Kagome."

"Thank you." She summoned up a smile.

"Are you settling in all right?"

"Yes." At least, she had been until now.

She wanted to say something about the scene she had just witnessed but she couldn't find the words. Just a short while ago she'd been feeling so hopeful about the future but, looking at him now, she was reminded that he was still a stranger to her, no matter what intimacies they had shared the night before.

"I'll take your trunks up tonight. Unless you need them sooner,"

"No. Tonight will be fine."

Koga hesitated, looking for something else to say. When he'd thought about marrying, he'd assumed he'd bring his new wife home, get her settled and not give much more thought to her. But he'd damn near lost a finger this morning because his mind was on his bride instead of the balky cow he'd just roped.

Looking at her now, he couldn't say just what it was about her that made it so hard to keep his mind on his work this morning. It wasn't that she was a raving beauty, because she wasn't. But there was something to be said for hair that was never quite tamed and eyes as big and soft as a fawn's.

Remembering the way her eyes had turned almost black with passion, Koga felt arousal stir in his gut. His jeans suddenly felt constricting and he had the urge to forget all about the work waiting to be done and take his wife upstairs to bed.

He could kiss away the dusting of flour on her short, straight nose. And from there, he was only a whisper away from her mouth. That full lower lip had haunted him since the first time he'd seen her. And now he had reason to know that it tasted as good as it looked.

"If there's nothing you need, I'll be getting back to work." He said abruptly. If he didn't get out of here, he wasn't going to be able to resist the urge to kiss her, and once he kissed her, he wasn't getting out of the house anytime soon.

"There's nothing I need. Thank you."

"I'll see you later, then." It was just that he was new to marriage, Koga told himself as he strode out. He paused at the top of the back steps, setting his hat on his head to cut the glare from the noontime sun. It was like driving a herd new to the trail; it took a few days to settle in.

No doubt, it was going to take time to settle into being married, Kagome thought. She dragged her eyes from the door through which her new husband had departed and surveyed the disaster that had, a short while ago, been a clean kitchen. The floor, which had been mopped less than an hour before, was coated with dirt and mud and substances she didn't want to identify. The table was a wreck of greasy dishes and spilled food.

She'd planned to eat after the men, but her appetite was gone. Forcing herself to move, she began clearing the table. Time, she told herself as she pumped water into a kettle and set it to heat, she just had to give it time. Hadn't she read somewhere that women provided a civilizing influence on the frontier? Obviously, the Sukanami ranch hands had been too long away from such influence.

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